


Chimera

by Karios



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Daydreaming, F/M, Kisses, Mild Sexual Content, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-24 07:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: That night in Flynn's room.





	Chimera

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dancingsalome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingsalome/gifts).



There's a version of this night where I do sleep with Lucy. When Lucy knocks I pull the door open and I immediately strip the bottle from her fingers, tugging her close by the waist. I make some quip as I kick the door shut and push Lucy against it, claiming her soft lips with my own. It takes her mouth a few moments to yield, her breath hitches, and I nearly pull away.

Instead her arms wrapped around my neck and draw me close again, her lips parting. She tastes like ash, but I don't care as my hands slid down to rest against her hips.

We break apart, slightly breathless.

“My mouth's dry,” she complains, half-heartedly, retrieving the bottle and taking a good, long swig of vodka. As she lowers the bottle from her lips, I yank it back and gulp down two mouthfuls of my own.

It's cheap, and awful, and as it burns its way down my throat, I can only say it tastes like giving up. Lucy pitches forward to take it from my hands. I hold the bottle above her head, and she pouts.

“You've had enough,” I say.

She gives up reaching for the bottle and clutches at the hem of my shirt instead. “Then I say you're overdressed.”

“Lucy you don't mean-”

One hand slipped down my pants, and her searching fingers brush along my length. “You don't get to tell me what I don't mean.” Her expression is fierce.

Our clothes are dispatched haphazardly, flung this way and that. We stop for sloppy kisses, and Lucy's the first to back away and settle herself on the bunker's pathetic excuse for the bed. I followed after her, closing the short distance between me and the bed. I lower myself on the mattress, our lips meet.

“Flynn?”

The image vanishes. Lucy stands before me, holding the bottle. I shake my head to clear it.

“Come in,” I say, and stand aside to let her enter.

“What were thinking you about?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I assure her. “Nothing at all.”


End file.
